


(please be) fearless

by TheWriter2



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Where No Man Has Gone Before, Episode: s01e06 The Naked Time, First Meeting, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Mental bonds, Mutual Pining, Pining, T'hy'la, classical literature, how many eye contact before kiss, lots of facial journeys and searching looks, mentions of canon death, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriter2/pseuds/TheWriter2
Summary: Spock considers himself generally indifferent to the idea of physical contact. Through a mixture of his culture and personal disposition, he has never had a need for the brief touches and lingering grips that humans often yearn for.And then something (someone) happens to change all of that.





	(please be) fearless

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this tumblr [post](https://therebe-whales-here.tumblr.com/post/184535478429/could-you-imagine-being-spock-and-being-raised-to):  
>   
> and the taylor swift song "Fearless"  
> and this [video](https://youtu.be/DEwDkZfUYQo):  
> i hope you all enjoy!!

Spock considers himself generally indifferent to the idea of physical contact. Through a mixture of his culture and personal disposition, he has never had a need for the brief touches and lingering grips that humans often yearn for.

And then something (someone) happens to change all of that.

 

Captain James T. Kirk, age 33, takes command of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ during Spock’s seventh year aboard.

When Spock was told the news about the change in command, he spared about an hour of meditation to adjust to the idea of serving under a new captain and promptly continued with his duties.

And then Captain Kirk steps off the transporter pad.

There is a tug in Spock’s belly. A tingle in his fingers. A pull that he cannot explain. Each of these sensations triggered by the presence of this new captain.

He can feel the captain’s eyes fall on him, hazel eyes heavy with something Spock can’t place. He can only breathe again when the captain shifts his attention to Commander Mitchell, his first officer. “Glad to see you haven’t destroyed my ship yet, Gary.” The captain’s teasing sends a shiver of pleasure down Spock’s spine.

Mitchell’s sharp grin cuts through his face. “Nah, I’ll save that for deep space, Jim.” Spock pushes down a frown. Mitchell’s voice is harsh in comparison to the captain’s.

Kirk sets his gaze on Spock again, that heavy emotion peaking out at the corners of his eyes. “You must be Lieutenant Commander Spock.” Kirk raises his hand in an acceptable _ta’al,_ and surprises Spock with the customary greeting in his native tongue. _“Dif-tor heh smusma.”_

It feels right to offer the customary reply. _“Dif-tor heh smusma, khart-lan,”_ Spock replies. “Welcome.”

Kirk’s smile is soft, quiet. It makes his face rounder--more boyish. Spock likes the way his cheeks bunch up near his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander.”

“Likewise, Captain,” Spock replies quietly, ducking his head. He seems unable to hold this man’s gaze for long. He can feel Kirk still watching him, taking stock and measuring. He wonders what the captain is looking for--and if he will find it.

“Shall we head to the bridge, Jim?”

Mitchell’s grating voice cuts through the moment once again. Kirk’s gaze snaps off him like a physical weight. Spock can feel him beginning to shift away and feels helplessly caught in the man’s gravity. He leans into the captain’s path, causing their shoulders to brush as Kirk steps past him.

Spock’s breath catches in his throat at the barest touch. Kirk seems to pause too, glancing at him for a moment before he follows Mitchell out of the transporter room.

Spock takes stock of himself, wondering what possibly could have caused him to react in such a way to such a simple touch. A touch he usually goes out of his way to avoid from the other members of his crew. He shakes off the thought. It is surely nothing. And he needs to return to his post.

***

Captain Kirk is a very physical individual, Spock finds.

This is evident in the way he leans against Commander Mitchell’s shoulders as they talk on the bridge. Spock observes it in the way he pats the shoulder of each crewman before they leave the captain to return to their post after delivering a report. He observes it in the way Kirk manages to maintain contact with every individual he interacts with on the ship.

Except Spock.

Usually, Spock would appreciate this. Far too often his fellow crew mates forget his heritage and place a too familiar hand on his person or come too close to crashing into him before a spark of insight causes them to jerk away.

But something about this distance the captain puts between them unsettles Spock. He knows the distance is normal--both for unacquainted humans and on Vulcan--but that tug in his belly persists and he finds himself struggling not to crash into the captain.

The crash comes--inevitable and obedient as all things are to the laws of gravity.

It occurs during one of their routine survey missions. It is only the captain’s fifth survey mission aboard the _Enterprise,_ and he has beamed down to observe the science team do their work. He made the pretense of becoming familiar with the way Spock runs his department, but judging by the way he wanders about picking flowers and laughing with the botanists, Spock is almost certain the captain just wanted to get off the _Enterprise_ for a few hours.

It is hard not get distracted by the captain’s presence. Spock finds himself sneaking glances at him, his heart stuttering at the way the sunlight catches in Kirk’s hair or the way his eyes light up when he smiles. It is hard to ignore the insatiable pull between them.

The _crack!_ of a twig nearby snaps Spock back into focus. He turns and studies the dark underbrush, searching for what may have made the noise. His eyes catch a shot of movement near where the captain has bent over to study a plant that resembles a Terran rosebush. Spock estimates that the creature is sufficiently large enough to cause bodily harm to any member of the landing party.

But before he can calculate the benefits of taking readings over trying to scare the creature off, the bushes shake violently and a snarl rips from the underbrush.

Spock is moving before he can accurately devise what is happening. He hands catch the shoulders of a large predator, successfully keeping it from tearing Kirk to shreds. He is taken back to his youth--the sands of the Forge and the howl of the le matya this creature resembles brush against his memory. The creature snarls and takes a swipe at Spock’s chest. His skin sings as blood beads from the wound. Gritting his teeth, Spock throws the cat off him. Somewhere behind him, Kirk sounds concerned. Spock can feel him take a step toward him and snaps, “Stay back!”

The creature hisses and leaps toward Spock again. Spock tumbles to ground as the cat snaps and claws at his throat. He struggles to find the nerve at the cat’s neck that will render it unconscious, but the swipes of its paws prevent him from getting a proper grip.

Suddenly, Spock hears the _trill_ of a phaser and the cat goes limp. A rush of hurried steps come his way as Spock relaxes under the heavy weight of the creature and the loss of adrenaline. Someone shoves the cat off him and the captain’s face comes into view, haloed by the planet’s yellow sun.

Spock can tell that the captain is saying something, but their closeness and the stinging in his chest and shoulders keeps Spock from focusing properly. As he slips into the healing trance, he feels Kirk’s concern bleed through their touch.

It feels warm.

***

Spock has never been fond of sickbay.

He finds his lack of fondness only grows as he takes in the sleeping form of the captain next to him. Kirk has folded himself into a chair--arms crossed, brow furrowed, and a PADD slipping down his thighs. Something warms in Spock’s chest at the sight of the man, his fingers itching to feel him--to make sure he’s truly there.

Spock lets out a heavy breath and turns his attentions inward. He takes stock of his remaining injuries--mostly bruises on his back and a few shallow cuts on his shoulders. If he were human, he would feel . . . pleased in his success at protecting the captain and the landing party.

(But he is not human. And he must remember that.)

The captain shifts in his chair, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he stretches languidly. Spock averts his eyes, unsure if it is improper for him to witness this.

“Spock.”

Kirk’s quiet voice snaps Spock’s attention back to him. Kirk stares at him, eyes wide and bright. Everything about this human is so bright. He is like the sun. Spock blinks at the thought. He needs to meditate.

Kirk stands, suddenly, and rushes to the bed, his hands strong on Spock’s biceps. “Thank god you’re alright, Mr. Spock,” he says, his voice still breathless.

Spock blinks again, struggling to maintain his shields. “Indeed, Captain.”

As though his voice breaks some kind of spell, Kirk startles and draws his hands away suddenly, an apology stumbling from his lips. They stare at each other for a moment before a laugh tumbles from the captain’s lips. Spock raises an eyebrow at his behavior.

Kirk falls into his chair again, running his hands through his hair. A shiver of . . . longing courses through Spock at the sight. “You have no idea how scared we were when you passed out, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says softly. “What were you thinking, jumping in front of that thing?”

“I was thinking that my captain needed to be protected from a creature that obviously meant him harm,” Spock statesmatter-of-factly.

Something seems to boil behind the captain’s eyes. “An you deduced it was necessary to sacrifice yourself for my well-being?” His voice is low, almost dangerous.

Spock isn’t sure what he’s said to make the captain so angry. “I assure you, Captain,” --he attempts the placating route-- “the odds that I would sustain mortal wounds from the encounter were acceptably low.”

The captain silently repeats his words, the anger dissipating to exasperation behind his eyes. Kirk shakes his head, tired eyes heavy on Spock’s face. “Well, in the future I believe it’d be best if you kept yourself out of harm’s way--regardless of the threats to my well-being.”

Something twists in Spock’s stomach. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, Captain.”

“Oh?” Kirk sits up, his face open. “And why’s that?”

Spock forces himself to hold the man’s blinding gaze. “I will always prioritize your well-being over my own, Captain. You are my superior officer. The _Enterprise_ needs you.”

Kirk seems lost as to how to respond to Spock’s declaration. “You can’t really value my life above your own? That’s . . .” his voice is quiet again and he seems lost.

“It is logical, sir,” Spock says. Kirk looks at him, that measuring gaze like a physical caress to him. “There is a Vulcan precept that would describe my train of thought quite accurately-- ‘The needs of many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.’”

A small smile brings a bit more of that glow to Kirk’s face. “Ah,” he looks down at his hands, “logic. Quite a useful tool, isn’t it, Mr. Spock?”

Spock isn’t sure if there is jest in the words. “That it is, Captain.”

Kirk meets his gaze and something like understanding seems to pass through those hazel eyes. “That it is, Commander.”

***

Ambassador Hayworth has been nothing but a nuisance since he came aboard the _Enterprise_ two days ago.

Or, at least, that is what Nyota claims.

Regardless, Spock is almost inclined to agree. The ambassador has created for himself an annoying habit of stumbling up to the bridge twice every shift to check on the _Enterprise’s_ progress on their journey to Telenor IV. And after each visit, he nags the captain--stating that at their current speed they will never arrive in time for the Telenor Council’s peace talks and “it’ll all be your fault, Kirk!”

Even Spock is beginning to feel . . . unpleasant when the ambassador is around.

But no one is more affected than the captain, it appears. Every time the ambassador comes to the bridge, Spock can almost feel Kirk’s shoulders tense and his jaw clench. Commander Mitchell distracts the ambassador with some witty retort to his complaints, but Spock can tell the captain finds no respite in his first officer’s banter.

And it’s gotten worse this time.

Ambassador Hayworth saunters around the bridge. Captain Kirk watches him with a careful eye and Spock is reminded of the primal dance between the le matya and the sehlat on Vulcan. Finally the ambassador turns and faces the captain head on, his grin sharp and dangerous. “Captain Kirk,” he says, his voice like poison to the crew’s ears, “if I may remind you of a handy little regulation--while I am on this ship, my mission takes the highest priority. And if I feel like the captain is not taking all appropriate action to ensure the fulfillment of my mission, I am given full authority to take command.”

The bridge seems to hold its breath. Not even Commander Mitchell can come up with something witty to ease the tension that almost physically bleeds from the captain’s form.

So Spock breaks the silence.

“Captain,” he says, watching Kirk closely as he flinches and breaks his gaze off from the ambassador, “if you would accompany me to engineering? I believe Engineer Scott has a report waiting for you on the status of our warp core.”

Kirk stares at him, his eyes blank and his jaw slack. Spock shifts on his feet and raises an eyebrow, silently willing the captain to respond and follow him from the bridge. The captain blinks a few times and tugs at his tunic, clearing his throat. “Of course, Mr. Spock,” he says, his voice low. He turns briefly to the ambassador. “If you’ll excuse me, Ambassador. Hopefully my engineer’s report will help us all with your . . . predicament.”

Hayworth grins triumphantly. “Of course, Captain.”

Kirk nods, his eyes distant again. Spock steps into his line of sight. Kirk jolts a bit and offers Spock a small smile and heads to the lift. Commander Mitchell gives him a thankful nod as Spock passes.

Once in the lift, Kirk lets out a heavy sigh and leans against the wall, running his hands over his face. He begins muttering something under his breath. A faint sheen of panic wavers off the captain and Spock feels compelled to ease his discomfort. He steps closer and begins to reach out-- “Captain--”

Kirk swiftly grabs his shoulders and searches for something desperately in Spock’s eyes. “I can’t lose my command, Spock!” His voice is soft and thick with anxiety.

“You will not lose command, Captain,” Spock explains quietly. “The ambassador is asking the impossible of you. He has no true claim.”

Kirk nods absently, his eyes drifting away to stare blankly at the wall again. “How can you be certain?” he asks quietly.

Spock swallows thickly, trying to think beyond the burning hands that hold his shoulders tightly. “Because I will not allow it.”

This snaps the captain’s gaze back to him, his eyes clearer than they’ve been in two days. “Really?”

“Really, Captain.”

Too many emotions pass across Kirk’s face for Spock to keep up with, but he settles on something soft--almost fond. His hands rub softly at Spock’s shoulders and his feet inch forward. Unsure about what has passed between them, Spock averts his eyes and clears his throat. Kirk startles gently and releases Spock’s arms. “My apologies, Mr. Spock.”

Spock shakes his head minutely. “There is no need to apologize, Captain.”

Kirk is silent for long enough that Spock looks up to ensure that he has not slipped into his panic again. Instead he finds a resigned look on the captain’s face. “No, Mr. Spock,” he says softly, “I believe there is.”

***

Observation Room Eight is quiet. The darkness that is normally quite soothing takes a somber atmosphere. Framed in the starlight that leaks into the room, Captain Kirk sits alone on a bench. Spock hesitates in the doorway for a moment, the guilt and grief radiating from the captain like ice where it hits his shields and seeps into his skin.

“Please come in, Mr. Spock,” Kirk calls, his voice tired.

The captain watches over his shoulder as Spock approaches. The usual light is absent from his eyes and Spock feels a physical pain in the center of his chest. He takes a seat and stares at his hands, unsure what to say.

“You know, I thought I would spend all five years with Gary by my side.” Kirk stares out at the stars again, his face a little more open. “I never thought to prepare myself for the possibility that he might be . . . gone someday.”

“I grieve with thee.” Spock makes sure the words are gentle, kind in their delivery.

Kirk snorts. “Please, I know Gary was pretty terrible. You can’t have liked him. He was the exact opposite of a Vulcan--brash, selfish, and illogical.” He sighs and wrings his hands. “I’m not even sure I liked him, honestly.”

Spock shakes his head. “Any loss of life is regrettable, regardless of personal biases.”

Kirk sighs and leans back on his hands. A rueful smile plays on his lips. “I really envy you sometimes, Mr. Spock.”

“Why is that, Captain?” he asks, his spine pulled a bit straighter.

“You’re just . . .” his voice is tight, “so good.”

Spock turns to stare at the stars. “I assure you, Captain,” he says quietly, “I am not.”

He can feel Kirk regard him heavily. “Well, regardless, you’re an exemplary officer, Mr. Spock.”

“Thank you.” He looks down at his hands.

“That’s why I want you to be First Officer.”

Spock whips around to stare at the captain. His eyes are wide as he takes in the gentle smile and the starlight in his eyes. “Are you certain, Captain?”

Kirk rolls his eyes. “Of course I am,” he says. “It’s not like there’s anyone more suited to the position than you are.” Kirk regards him again, the smile slipping into something more professional. “I need you, Spock. You’ve already saved my life in more ways than one. I need you--your logic, your morals, your reasoning.” Kirk stares at him, that heaviness from their first meeting weighing Spock down--keeping him in place. “I can’t do this without you.”

Spock swallows tightly, his mouth growing dry as that tug returns to not only his belly, but in the back of his mind. He spares a moment to inspect that mental tug and is shocked to find the wispy tendrils of a fledgling bond reaching out for his captain. He manages to croak out, “Are you certain, Captain?”

Kirk scoots closer, the distance between them closing but also impossibly widening. “I am.”

“Then . . . I am yours, Captain.”

Kirk stares with wide eyes, weighing the words as carefully as Spock had said them. Then that blinding grin flashes from his lips in full force and he slumps forward, his head bridging the distance to rest on Spock’s shoulder. Spock goes rigid as the captain relaxes, a breathy laugh puffing out against Spock’s shoulder. “Thank god,” he feels against his skin.

Unsure of what to do, Spock raises a hand slowly and rests it on Kirk’s shoulder.

And that is when the moment shatters.

Kirk shoots up, his face glowing in the starlight with a vivid pink blush that Spock finds impossibly charming. “Excuse me, Commander,” Kirk sputters, straightening his tunic and turning to face the vastness of space again. “That was incredibly inappropriate of me.”

But Spock’s skin sings for contact. It’s as if that quiet longing that has persisted deep underneath Spock’s skin since this man has stepped aboard this ship has been called forth and now begs for fulfillment. Spock shakes his head. “On the contrary, Captain,” he says quietly, “I find that--from you--some contact is . . . acceptable.”

Kirk turns to him again, his eyes cradling that vulnerable and searching expression again. That understanding passes over his face again and Spock hopes he has not picked up on his longing. But Kirk only nods and lets his shoulders relax as they sit together in the dark silence, watching the universe pass them by--powerful and beautiful.

***

Very few of Spock’s duties change after his promotion.

He is still the ship’s Chief Science Officer. He still spends his shifts at the science station and ensuring the scientists in the labs aren’t in danger of destroying the ship. He still beams down with landing parties to take readings.

But it’s the little changes that Spock notices.

Like how the captain is more open with him. They spend hours together--completing paperwork and planning away missions and duty shifts. The time they spend together goes beyond that as well. They play chess together, a “team-building exercise,” the captain claims. Not that Spock minds--the captain is a formidable opponent.

But those changes are also in the way the captain looks at him. In the way that the captain seems to touch him 64% more than he touches the other crewmen (the new CMO, Dr. McCoy, is outlier and Spock does not include him in his calculations).

Every time the captain rests a hand on Spock’s shoulder, his elbow, the small of his back, his heart jumps and he knows his blood pumps a little faster through his body. The beginning of that bond sings for completion. The longing takes a fervent tone and Spock can’t deny his . . . attraction.

He isn’t sure what to do.

***

Spock is early for their chess match.

He stands outside the captain’s quarters and debates asking for entry or just waiting for their meeting time to arrive. But he’s been restless all day and he’s unsure if he can physically wait any longer.

Ever since that moment, hours ago, in the conference room--the emotions, the _confession_ , the touching--Spock has been desperate to see the captain outside the veneer of command. To speak to him. To explain.

He shakes his head and takes a steadying breath and requests entry.

The door opens immediately and the earthy richness of the room hits him and, as it does every evening he enters the room, something loosens in Spock’s gut.

He steps inside and finds Kirk at his desk, an old Terran novel cradled in his hands. “Mr. Spock!” he exclaims. “You’re early.”

Spock bows his head. “I apologize, sir. If you wished to be alone, I can--”

“No, no,” Kirk interrupts. “Nonsense. Take a seat.” Spock does. “How have you been?”

Spock shoves down the impulse to fidget. “Adequate, sir.” Silence hangs between them and he is sure their thoughts are trailing back to that moment and it’s revelations. Spock clears his throat. “ _Pride & Prejudice, _ Captain?”

Kirk lets out a short laugh and turns the book over in his hands. “Yes, Mr. Spock. I found I was in the need of some . . . guidance from Ms. Bennet.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Which Ms. Bennet, Captain?” he asks, slipping back into their normal banter. “I find that is an important specification.”

Kirk grins. “Ms. _Elizabeth_ Bennet,” he says. He pauses and glances between Spock and the novel. “Have you read it, Mr. Spock?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers. “It was . . . charming.”

Kirk leans back in his seat, the same lazy smile he shows when Spock makes a bold and daring chess move appearing on his lips. “And what were your thoughts on our main couple?”

Spock shifts in his seat. “I found Ms. Bennet witty and bright. She was a pleasure to follow on her journey.” He pauses and shifts a bit in his seat. “Mr. Darcy I found . . . a bit elitist but over all amiable and a bit kindred.”

Nodding, Kirk turns the novel over in his hands. “I love Austen,” he says in a mild non-sequitur. “She was a master when it came to crafting a touching romance.”

Spock considers this and says carefully, “Perhaps, but there is a Terran love story that I prefer to Austen’s.”

“And what is that, pray tell?” Kirk asks, a charming crooked grin gracing his face.

“It may be a tad . . . unorthodox,” he begins, “but I have always been fascinated by Madeline Miller’s _The Song of Achilles_ from the early 21st century.”

Kirk shoots up in his seat. “Really?” he exclaims. “I adore that novel!”

Spock pauses, unsure how to proceed with the excitement that pours off the captain in warm waves. “I found the prose simple yet effective,” he says slowly. “Each word served its purpose and the product was,” he hesitates, “incredibly touching.”

“I agree!” Kirk says. He continues, raving about the beautiful relationship Miller cultivated between Achilles and Patroclus and Spock is drawn in within moments. They spend far longer together than they would have over chess debating and praising different classical novels and by the time Spock leaves for the evening, he realizes that they had never mentioned what had occurred earlier that day. In fact, what had happened had changed nothing between them.

With that revelation, something loosens in his chest for good.

***

Spock cannot help but give in to the attraction, the pull the originates deep inside him. That itching longing under his skin and the unfulfilled bond that calls to him in his mind are driving him to madness. The very essence of James T. Kirk sings to him and Spock isn’t sure how he is going to handle nearly four more years of this.

This being the fond glances and the tender smiles. The quiet banter and the peaceful chess matches. The shared tea over classical novels and debates over the validity of one time travel theory over another. The respect. The camaraderie. The small touches that follow Spock deep into the night when even he should be asleep.

The emotion he can not longer deny.

And the idea that he may have found something rare and beautiful here--a _t’hy’la._

But Kirk--no, Jim he’s been asked to call him--Jim is so remarkably and beautifully human and Spock can hardly keep up as it is. To add romance to the mix? Surely they would crash and burn?

The ancient stories of _t’hy’la_ call to him, reminding him that nothing can come between a fated pair.

It turns out, however, that Jim would be the one to make the first move.

He grabs Spock’s elbow, flashing a brief smile as he leads Spock from the mess hall to the lifts. As the lift speeds to their destination, Spock gently takes his elbow from Jim’s almost nonexistent grasp. “May I ask what this is about, Captain?” he asks, his voice cautiously gentle.

Jim brings out that small smile again. “You may ask, Mr. Spock, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait on an answer until we’re in a . . . but more private setting.”

Spock inclines his head in a small nod. “Then may I offer my quarters? I believe they are closer to the lift than your own.”

That sunshine grin grows a few inches. “Why I’d be honored, Mr. Spock.” Spock turns to face the doors of the lift. At least their natural repartee is still in tact.

Jim follows him to his quarters, rocking slightly on his heels as Spock unlocks the door to his cabin. He motions for Jim to enter first, receiving a polite pull to the lips for his troubles. Spock commands the computer to lower the temperature by a few degrees to accommodate his captain, an action that rewards him with a rather complex smile, multiple emotions dancing behind Jim’s expressive hazel eyes. Spock moves to stand across from Jim and rests his hands behind his back, in part to show open body language but also to hide the clenching of his fingers at the thought of having the captain in his personal space.

Jim shifts on his feet, looking around the room curiously. “I like the decorations,” he says, the false normalcy stiff on his lips as he points to the various artifacts Spock as accumulated in his room.

Spock takes a stiff breath and lets his lips tug into a shallow frown. “Please, Captain, let us not dance around the topic.”

Jim regards him carefully, the few feet between them seeming like miles to the tug that pulls in Spock’s belly. “I believe this topic warrants a bit of intimacy, Spock,” Jim says, his voice careful. “You could at least drop the rank here, in your room.”

Too anxious to take the normal route of debating which situations warrant the informal nature of first names, Spock simply nods and says quietly, “Of course, Jim.”

Jim blinks and pauses for a moment. Then his shoulders relax and he edges a few inches closer. “I admit,” he begins hesitantly, “I’m not sure how to begin, Spock.”

“I find that the direct route tends to be the surest way,” Spock suggests, pouring some normalcy back into the tense atmosphere of their conversation.

Jim grins, a quiet joke passing between them. “Of course, you’re probably right.”

“Probably?” Spock asks, perhaps pushing the dry humor a bit far.

But Jim chuckles this time, his natural sunshine peeking out ever stronger from his nervous body language. “Well,” Jim says with a breath, “I suppose I should get on with it.” He bounces on his heels again and Spock allows him the room to find his words. “I . . . I have never expected you to act human.” He spares Spock a brief glance. “But I feel as though I’ve been asking you the same question over and over again and I can never get a straight answer.”

Jim glances up and raises a hand, sensing Spock’s question building in his chest. “Please, allow me to continue until the end.” Spock nods and motions for him to resume his monologue.

“I know,” he says gently, “that your people have mastered their emotions. And I know to outworlders you pretend not to possess them at all.” He looks up and stares a Spock desperately. “But I know you better than that, don’t I?” Spock nods hesitantly. “Then if I were to ask you about your feelings for me, would you answer?”

Spock blinks, unsure how to proceed. “I . . . I admit I am unsure how to answer, Jim.”

Jim shakes his head and steps closer, the toes of their boots brushing and Jim’s hands rising to grasp Spock’s shoulders. “Spock, please, tell me you feel this pull between us, too.”

That pull Jim speaks of rears its angry head and sends fire coursing through Spock’s veins. The bond sings in the back of his mind, pushing against his shields to meet its match. Spock stares down at Jim’s open, searching eyes and realizes that _this_ is what Jim has been searching for this whole time--proof that what he felt was reciprocated in some way.

Slowly, Spock lowers his shields. He raises his hands to grip Jim’s waist and leans forward, allowing their foreheads to touch. The longing, the pull cries for Spock to crush Jim to his form until they are scarcely two separate beings. He lets his eyes slip closed as he breathes in Jim’s earthy scent that is quickly becoming intermixed with the rich smell of incense from Spock’s room.

“Jim,” he whispers, opening his eyes enough to see Jim’s face, “this feeling, it is an ancient bond that ties us together. It has not been observed in my people for many years, but it remains the most precious of bonds.” Jim’s eyes sparkle as hope and tears gather there. “We call it _t’hy’la.”_

“What does it mean?” Jim breathes.

“Friend,” Spock says, running a hand up Jim’s back.

“Brother,” he says, combing his fingers through Jim’s hair.

“Lover,” he breathes onto Jim’s lips.

Jim lunges forward, claiming the kiss promised in Spock’s words. The bond crashes into Jim’s skin as Spock wraps his arms around him, crushing their chests together. The kiss is desperate and heated, their hands grasping anything they can find. The tug that’s been plaguing them for months finally beginning to be satiated.

They break apart, breathing heavily. Spock stares at Jim’s redden lips and his tousled hair. Jim grins, light shining from his face and through the bond that now tentatively tethers them together.

Jim brushes his thumb over Spock’s meld points, affection and love washing over Spock like a warm gulp of plomeek soup. His arms tighten around Jim’s waist and he leans forward to press gentle kisses to Jim’s neck and shoulder.

They stand there together, swaying gently as they exchange gestures of affection. They learn the lines of their bodies and they way they fit together. The way their heartbeats make beautiful music.

The way their minds make new colors in the privacy of their bond.

 

Spock didn’t think he needed the casual touches and the heavy affection humans poured on each other. He thought his upbringing and his personality predisposed him to be above those things.

And then he met James Tiberius Kirk, his captain, his beloved, his _t’hy’la._  

**Author's Note:**

> this was so much fun to write! it was interesting to keep myself in one character's mind but also be painfully aware of what another character is thinking and having to balance the ignorance of spock's pov while also trying to show how jim was feeling
> 
> but yeah this is a little different from my usual style but it flowed really well and i hope its satisfying  
> also yes, jim is reading pride and prejudice because he sees a bit of darcy in spock and wants to seduce him ala elizabeth bennet style ;)
> 
> UPDATE: check out this amazing art by [sortumavaara](https://therebe-whales-here.tumblr.com/post/187263468819/last-of-the-requests-this-one-is-for)
> 
> Come talk to me about Trek at acesexualspock on tumblr Or at my writing blog at thewriter2


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